A World Without Fear: Post Requiem
by ResistingFate
Summary: The Black Order, Zero, Britannia, the U.F.N, and the power of the Code Geass, those memory haunts Kallen throughout all her years in College, following her loving and losing. Always urging her to act, but the world doesn't need another Rebellion. The world is in pain for what it has forgotten, and it is all the metal man's fault.
1. Before the Requiem

**Can be read alongside A World Without Fear: Norwa Gateway.**

**Spoilers for Code Geass.**

**Summary**

**The Black Order, Zero, Britannia, the U.F.N, and the power of the Code Geass, those memory haunts Kallen throughout all her years in College, following her loving and losing. Always urging her to act, but the world doesn't need another Rebellion. The world is in pain for what it has forgotten, and it is all the metal man's fault.**

It's raining. A coffin now seals tight, surrounded in grey trees. Insects dance, wings flap, those veiled in black mourn.

It's not fair, the older Kōzuki brother – dead. Part of Britannian command, everyone believes his death honourable. They're half right but all wrong.

Naoto. Fighting for freedom that the world ignores. Kallen stood by him, even when he pushed her away.

Who's standing next to her now?

The metal man towers over Kallen. His puffed cloak repels the misty droplets, the faceplate distorting her reflection. Her chubby face, drenched and useless, waiting for the metal man to speak ill.

"This is Naoto's own fault. Your Brother took too many risks, leading a splinter cell faction was supposed to be relatively safe."

Kallen balls her fist. The muffles of raindrops drown the sound. The humans are silent, letting insects jump ontop them.

The metal man remains untouched. "Kallen, your Frame piloting skills don't matter. I won't sponsor detriments."

Splashes ricocheted off puddles, unrelenting. "Naoto is dead. Your insurrection should die with him."

The masked man is cruel, Kallen realises now. There's nothing left.

Naoto is gone, and he's ever coming back. No more gentle pats on her head, words of encouragement, or in-jokes. All those memories waver in the air, with the insects, stinging her.

"Where is Naoto?" Ohgi is motionless. No one lifts their head. To be expected, everyone is grappling reality as it slips away. The dead lose their secrets, and the same knowledge blinds the living.

Death. There is no abyss. No ledge to grab hold of: the end of a black hole is not comparable to this feeling. Yet Kallen knows death, visits it often. Her tongue splits from dryness, and her nostrils cloud. She's cold. Her heart, alone, frozen.

Her mothers and father to Kallen's right, loud and weeping. With deflated arms that nudge forward. But Kallen doesn't move. They can't reach her; they never will.

The keepers stop waiting on Kallen to the annoyance of the metal man. All that's left if for her parents to impart stale words, letting the lice scuttle on their backs. And the black crate lowers with a blue glow following it.

Movement, invasive, wavering then crouching. The metal man's mask is level to Kallen. "This is a warning. Stop fighting the world and live a simple life."

Kallen slants her eyes to the dirt ground. He's just a mask. What do they know?

Kallen roars at the fools clothed in black. "Don't you dare think it. Not one of you. I won't let you control me."

The reception only stirs at Kallen's outburst. Ohgi stares blankly – not listening. He's so stupid, paying more attention to a beetle than her.

Kallen stomps on the floor, twisting her foot into the mud. It doesn't matter. Even if they don't listen now, Kallen will keep screaming at the world. Her self-affirming promise.

Her vow: the ones in control are wrong. Kallen punches the metal man's shoulder. The clang is hard, the man unaffected – only bruising Kallen.

The man is hollow. "If you carry on the way you are, you will only make yourself and others suffer. Can you not forget your dense dreams? This rage isn't passion — it's selfishness."

Metal arms trap Kallen, blocking her escape. She resists, shaking her head side to side; a metal man can't possibly understand her pain.

Kallen looks over the metal plate. The eyes must be somewhere. "I won't ever stop. I'll fight for everyone in Japan. No numbers, no slavery, no Britannians."

The metal man digs his gloved fingers into his faceplate. The lump shakes, shivering.

"Dammit. Is that's how you're going to be? Then forget the pain of your Brother's death." Wet polysynthetic fingers press into Kallen's heart.

It's so unreasonable. Kallen, forget her Brother? This pain is her now, driving her heart. She crawls inwards. Small, dampened from the rain. Her mind fogs to the butterfly, crawling into her self-embrace.

Kallen can make out the mark on its wingspan, like that of a Rorschach test, with black pigment defining the pattern, spreading from the boundaries, accenting the blue. The butterfly hovers, flapping glowing blue wings that flicker the symbol of the flying crow, as thin as a portrait, and as dense as the moon, so unique to the red that fills Kallen's mind.

Why does something so cruel have to be so beautiful?

**Kallen's lost her memories of Naoto then, but her rage against Britannia never died.**

**Comments are cool. I'll enjoy thoughts on this post-cannon AU of Code Geass.**


	2. Year 1 Semester One

**Year 1**

**Semester 1**

Hexagons tile perfectly. Tesselate.

The Knightmare tracks along an obsidian road, ascending above sandstone rooftops. Onto a bridge connecting to yet another platform resting on floors of acrylic windows. Leaping, the Knightmare only plummets momentarily between floating gaps.

Uniform blocks duck for the curved superstructures. The tallest towers spread their branches, connecting concrete bridges to the neighbouring skyscrapers. In a hurry, the Knightmare shortcuts back to a lower stage. Sharp shadows merge into leafy gardens.

Pools of water flow down the edges of the buoyant monolith, dripping into an abyss. The Knightmare jumps down, racing the stream. The abyss opening, it lands back onto a hexagonal platform, the diameter of multiple city blocks. Sprinting, the Knightmare passes electric vehicles, merging into the main highway.

In blinks the platforms interchange through the air, revealing the grid-like arrangement of the city, sailing above the clouds. Hovering icebergs hold up the hexagon plates in repetition, connected by an ever-changing highway: the commute for the fast and rich. It does little to comfort anxiety. Overhead, dark contrasts of light hint at the supernatural presence, the hand of God dancing above.

And jutting out at regular intervals, subtle perches park along the road. They contain the machines set to guard the city, that now charge after the speeding Knightmare, along with the hovering hand. As they tail, the Knightmare sights its target; the Central Hub: overwhelming disks, circular, intersecting each other, slipping into a tower; like Gods playing Jenga with the mountains.

Then, a timed prompt; the hexagonal grid pulls apart evenly. Some of the platforms join, but the major clusters keeping separate, enclosing continental gaps.

The machines charge over cars, towering strawed lampposts. The Knightmare ignores the conflict, focusing on the empty air, cables dangle from one tile to the next, vital to the survival of the structure. Temporary, but one cannot tuck them in between the edges. Creases have formed, damaging the integrity of the cable.

The destined island still separates by a significant distance. The historic Mound bobbles on top of the floating platform. Its oily innards visible, as though strikes from the Greek Titans tore into it, cutting out a cross-section.

The Frame takes a leap of faith, departing from the firm ground. Plummeting again, yet this time it floats. It's Core heating up red. The Knightmare's optical camera swivels to the underside of the platform.

Reaching its target, the Knightmare places pincer fingers over the cord.

Snap.

Two strands of the cable fall to gravity, finding equilibrium. The hand reappears through the fog clouds. Its warm fingers fiddling with the magnetic bolts.

The robot Knightmare accepts the gift, implanting the device on each side of the platforms in the preassigned lattice points. By the hands of giants, the two tiles realign, sealing with the magnets.

A small green indicator on a separate screen lights. The first success. But for tonight, the last.

Bright white light keeps everything in focus; the tiny floating bergs made of Earth rearrange, forming into one extended grid.

Kallen leans over the miniaturised city. The floating city.

Made via the atmospheric suspension of high mass structures. The technology used lavishly throughout the past decade, but never planned for such a large scale. A new technological marvel worked on together by the United Federal Nations.

The U.F.N. It was to be their solution.

Cities are built to stay in place. Conversely, a city does not work if it's not fixed. But with gyroscopic stabilisation, intricate engines and powerful thrusters, this one can move. Relocate.

The plan: a levitating grid. With uniform shapes, the city would be modular, adaptable. A future, where any nation could connect by proximity. Tessellating, the platforms can continue indefinitely. Hexagons tile perfectly.

But the real world is less ideal. Joining tiling land wasn't the solution, splitting the world was. Naive, the first solution tore a city from the ground, forcing it to float. Ingenuity, man-hours and lost lives, the requirement to keep the wonder-city in stasis.

To save is ad-hoc. Adding fixes only after the problems start, never designing for them beforehand.

Kallen wrangles her hands over controls, resetting the platforms to their initial positions. The city dechunks, separating into three large landmasses.

Complexity intense, the tiles detach and swivel, failing to get into the correct position. It's easy to create a jigsaw, exponentially harder to make the individual pieces meaningful.

And the U.F.N want this to be their capital.

Leaving Nina Einstein to fix it and Kallen to help with their latest project: Knightmare Frame implementation for modular city repair. The project isn't even completed halfway through, and Kallen's given up.

She hangs her head back, the chair brace tickling her neck. Cooped up in Nina's giant lab, surrounded by floating toys. How does a genius deal with it? Kallen slouches on her wheeled stool, pushing off one of the model platforms, revolving across river-like gaps, not getting far before colliding with a lost tile. The collision ebbs at pride. Kallen shuts her eyes.

A sharp pain interrupts Kallen's slumber. Eyes open. A finger charges again. Kallen swats it away.

Large glasses look down on her. "Stop slacking." Nina drops a bunch of papers onto Kallen's lap.

Kallen roughs up her hair, greasy. Stretching her neck, Kallen unclogs her mind, then winces at Nina's glare. Kallen should stop stressing the girl out; otherwise, Nina's hair will really fizz out.

But Nina doesn't falter. Relaxing her little expression of annoyance. Kallen condemns herself for that unfair assessment. Nina Einstein can handle herself. Neat clothes, enhanced by correct posture. Her curly hair emphasising her well-rounded demeanour. A year really does change people.

On Kallen's lap, various scribbles and highlights litter the formal document. Nina spared no leniency in her analysis. Kallen brushes her opened letter aside. She doesn't want to reread it yet.

She looks around at the mess of a project. Focusing on the model roadway leading to the Mound, a popular tourist attraction.

Kallen thinks of happy memories. Relaxing in the captain's chambers: C.C eating pizza while rolling on the sofa. Lelouch fumbling over documents. Purple eyes. So alive back then.

A blue fly resting on the toy Knightmare flutters away, pass the road and over the Mound.

Kallen snaps back into the silence. She's too daydreamy this night. So much delving into fantasies. And she remembers none of it. Only that time was wasted.

Kallen spins her chair back to the Nina. "I know it doesn't look like I've got very far, but you know how complicated the project is."

Nina sighs, reluctant. "It is a mess, I'll admit. I just thought I'd found a good solution." Nina tugs at her head in frustration.

Kallen fidgets with her sleeve. She just wants Nina to be happy. Maybe changing the conversation topic will help.

"Hey, do you remember Japan's official ceremony of independence, when Ohgi made that super awkward speech as Prime Minister?"

"You are way too nostalgic for that. Especially when you and your whole team got very drunk, running naked along the porch. Although I will admit that the afterparty was quite fun."

Kallen grins. "Still doesn't beat my favourite party blunder. The coronation event with Zero and Nunnally. The three of us were playing a board game of Risk. Surprisingly, Nunnally was the first to snap in frustration."

Nina joins in with the chuckle. "That doesn't sound right? The unexpected Nunnally strikes again."

Nina crashes on the tiles, failing to control her laughter. Glancing over the model city, she switches back to work mode.

"So you were trying to save the Mound platform from being disconnected incorrectly?"

"It was surprisingly complex. The Mound isn't just any ruin, it consists of layers of dead fossils pressed in red oil. Making the platform out of clay, it would collapse if the platform split apart, but the Mound should be both malleable and robust. I ended up sub-zero freezing a turkey and casting it in Iron."

Nina presses a nail to her lip. "Huh. Wasn't the original city pulled out from the ground and split in half, the other section left in ruins in the remainder of the forest."

"True, but neither collapsed. I researched it."

Nina is, for some reason, amused. Way too playful.

"Did you read the folklore of the Mounds too? How the Mounds actually imprison ancient demons hellbent on dooming the entire world. "I get it, Kallen. You want to be sure the Mound stays intact because otherwise, you think monsters will start invading the Earth."

Kallen snarls in embarrassment. "Just because Europe's other Mounds have creepy names, doesn't mean I believe in that nonsense."

Although infuriated, Kallen knows Nina's only playing.

But it does remind her of the pain Kallen is hiding. She can't keep living this way. After the events last year, Kallen can't remain stagnant. Even if annoyed, right now she's the happiest she's ever been. But she's also not growing. University is as much a blessing as a curse.

Nina takes the letter from Kallen's lap again. Hair stands all over Kallen's body. Does she have to bring focus to that thing now?

She passively observes Nina, their eyelids strained, and their lips scrunched.

"You're not considering this? Are you?" Nina throws the letter to the side.

Disapproval. But Kallen doesn't want to alarm. She keeps to her routine. "That depends if it's real or not?"

Kallen rotates her seat to lean on a nearby plastic office-building.

Nina slams the nearest platform. The neighbours bounce in turn. Shaking, Kallen strains to stay rigid. Vibrations ebb away at her skull. Nina closes her eyes and breathes. Kallen, letting go of the borrowed anxiety, quells her tile's motion.

Nina presses the bridge of her glasses into her nose, then straightens her back. Composing herself to a higher standard than Kallen can appreciate. "In high school, I was lost. The only thing keeping me going was my machinations. I was an easy lure for Britannia, my masters. I thought that project F.R.I.E.D.A was the chance I needed to prove myself to the world."

"And then F.R.I.E.D.A destroyed an entire city." Kallen won't hear any more of Nina's spiel. That time Nina was unhinged, reflecting on those traumatic memories won't do either of them any good.

Nina shakes. "I slaughtered them."

One of the hexagon tables wanes an unsanitary creak. Circular floors dart in and out.

Kallen blames internally: A soldier's incompetence was the real persecutor. Whether Kallen should blame herself for not stepping up, or let Suzaku live with the guilt, that's the only ambiguity.

Nina bites her lip. "I was naive, wilfully giving up my humanity."

In war, empathy is wasteful. Kallen can't let Nina get to her, it'll make them both weak. Memories of Nina drowned in pain still haunts Kallen, but she prepares a chipper voice. "I'm responsible for murder too. It's normal."

The platform pretends to steady.

Nina's eyes tear up. More disapproval. "No, You revolted against oppression."

Nina's cold palm reaches Kallen's shoulder, touching.

Kallen flinches. Disks slip and tumble onto the flooring.

Don't get close, not after feigning such pity.

The white backlights hide Nina's expression. The scientist steals herself to a platform filled with trees, bushes and zoo-life. "The world is different now. All Nuclear Weaponry disarmed. Every country signed that agreement, the world united as one. Any wars being fought now are no longer meaningful."

That was the dream. Unite the world by turning hate towards an oppressive ruler, and killing him to quelch all hatred. The noble sacrifice. Lelouch's so-called plan. How simple. If that worked, they'd have been in four Utopias by now.

Nina retakes hold of the letter, locking it in her arms. Wanting to talk about it again, but Kallen leaves her to waddle in place.

Nina's a hypocrite, believing that her virtue is law. After she was part of the Zero Requiem. Is that where her ignorance of the world comes from, another construction to cope with that guilt.

Blaming herself when she works for the same country who ordered the Tokyo nuclear strike: Britannia.

The funny thing is, any country that researched nuclear weapon development during the time was immediately sanctioned to starvation. And yet, Britannia was let off scot-free, recuperating as a main superpower.

A superpower that Nina now sits comfortably in. Her life protected by her powerful friend: Queen Nunnally, a critical player in politics. Using her youth as a symbol of innocence the Nunnally makes it appear that there is no animosity between nations, the biggest lie of the century.

Kallen rolls to the pile of building props spilt on the floor. Passing one of the connected landmasses. Red highlights the tram complex which intertwines as dangerously as an unmanned roller coaster. Kallen reaches down, picking up the disks.

She can't stay inactive in this world; Kallen needs to take action. As one of the strongest soldiers in the Black Order Rebellion, she should be gaining political leverage and leading the charge against the enemy. Kallen can almost imagine it. A world of peace, no more tanks to crush under the weight of her Gurren.

The splintering becoming too visceral. Kallen shakes her head, wanting the memories to leave her.

"Kallen, you're zoning out." Nina waves her hand in front of Kallen's vision. A Builder Frame is now crushed under a circular disk. Reverberations travels up her spine.

Nina drags Kallen's chair away from the city model. "Look, the letter is legit, but accepting Japan's offer will only worsen your depression." Kallen rocks herself out of her previous mood. She shouldn't stay mad, Nina is a good friend.

"Consider my words before taking the offer."

Kallen panoramas the room. The floating city promises perfection, but it's a distant utopia. And right now it's scattered.

Nina is right. No one nation is in the right, and the cause worth fighting for isn't in that letter. All it'll do is trap her under foolhardy leaders. Kallen will keep her flexibility and find the best path forward for the world.

She stretches out the chair, grasping the letter. Nina reluctantly releases her grip. Kallen navigates the river bank spacing, reaching the exit, wearing her smile before pulling open the door.

"Don't worry. I'll be good."

"Stay safe." Nina's voice trails on the opposite side of the door.

* * *

It's quiet. The library, a place of safety. Focused, Kallen scans the documents on the static ink. She flicks with her fingers. The page becomes white. A delay, then back to text again. On the bottom, 3-percentage left. 1 page. The page finishes off with the importance of renewable power. And a preamble of careers within the U.F.N that will revolutionise renewable energy.

Kallen leaves her E-Reader at the desk, exits her seat and proceeds to the spiral staircase. She takes the most compelling language magazine on the side bench, before climbing the steps. Kallen rotates upwards to reach the highest floor, then takes a right through the bookcases to the advanced engineering section. Trailing her finger across the shelf, she lands at her destination. Gripping on to a military book, she pulls it out the clamped pile and bares it open in separate parts.

Title: Strategic Thinking for Conventional and Unconventional Warfare.

Kallen flips the pages, her textbook ripples along the spine. She jumps along with the words as she strides in routine back to her desk - covering the front with the magazine.

Sitting down, she places the book over her coursework, turning to the fifth page of the chapter. Tank formations and infantry retreat procedure, in times of desperation Knightmare ejection policies must be ignored. A picture of a broken down Knightmare Frame, cockpit cascaded in pieces by an artillery shell.

"Boo."

Kallen swings her chair back, the book and magazine propelling in the opposite direction. She catches herself before the chair topples completely.

The chair doesn't collide with the carpet, caught by her predator. Kallen's heart races. An arm wraps around her waist, as a playful voice lulls into her ear. "Still reading those weird magazines I see."

Gino's tall form strides to Kallen. Did he catch her reading the book?

"Don't sneak up on me like that."

Gino laughs in amusement. "Couldn't help myself."

Kallen presses into the taller man. Gino's such a clown, but he's also comfortable.

Kallen crosses her arms and puffs. "You give the same excuse every night too".

Gino rests his head on Kallen's shoulder, nuzzling into her. Stealing a glance to the side, an onlooker stares in disgust. One of Gino's girls with long straightened blond hair. Kallen hates the bit-lip look. Who do they think they are? Complaining about Kallen but perfectly fine with the other girls.

Kallen will have her revenge, she indulges her tongue in Gino's mouth. Savoury and warm. Gino returns her passion as she squints an eye open. The disruptor quickly retreats. That's right, run away.

Gino brushes Kallen's hair. "Ease up."

Kallen shakes off her anxiousness. "It's a public place, I'll do what I like."

She won't let that radical pacifist judge her past. However, her boyfriend can do whatever he wants. As long as Gino doesn't pry too much.

A fleeting moment passes. Gino shakes in anticipation. "Why are you learning Marlian anyways?"

Kallen needs to be careful here. People can't know of the other book. "Learning another language is always a good skill."

Gino nods in ignorant agreement. "Yeah, but why Marlian?"

Why does it have to be now that Gino is so interested in Kallen's work? Kallen glances down at the magazine. Then again, why did Kallen pick this magazine? Couldn't her subconscious choose a more relevant language?

Yet the country, Marley, does ring some bells. When did she last hear of the country?

"I'm not so sure myself?"

"As I said. Weird."

Gino lets go and looks at Kallen's E-Reader. "Are you doing well in your studies. You're in here way more often than I am."

"Well, I'm not a Fresher like you anymore. Can't party in the daytime like your other girls."

"But there are so many cool people I want you to meet."

It's not that Kallen minds Gino's free spirit, but does he have to involve her all the time. "That'd be a mistake. The other students fear me."

Gino grabs her by the shoulder. "Don't talk like that. I'm sure they'll see you're not so scary once you mingle with a crowd."

"That's not how it works. You're royalty. Of course, people will be pawing all over you."

Kallen rubs her face, before picking up her book and hiding it between her arms and magazine.

Gino watches Kallen, late at hiding a frown. "So Nina told me about that letter."

Kallen tries to ignore Gino, walking towards the receptionist, scanning the magazine and sliding the books into the return slot.

Kallen needs to set some new ground rules for her friends. "Gino, that letter isn't any of your concern. The only person I'm taking any advice from is my mother."

Gino reveals his puppy frown again. "That's not fair. Why can't I help?"

"My Mother. No one else."

Gino shakes his head before easing up. "Fine, when are you seeing her."

"Next holiday, in two weeks."

Gino nods in affirmation. He sighs then looks back at her with gentle eyes. "That'll be good. Now that that is over with let's have fun. You see, my flatmates are having this party."

Gino takes the lead, dragging her to the exit, sliding his hand into her own. Kallen entwines their fingers together, keeping hold of the E-reader and magazine with her other hand.

* * *

Kallen digs into her steak. Playing around with the dead slab a bit too much. "I'm glad you're enjoying your dinner, Karen."

Kallen looks up to Mom's cheerful face. "It's good."

Mom keeps smiling. "Like your grades?"

Kallen can't welcome these feign questions. "They're fine, and before you ask, I'm doing great at Uni."

Mom becomes slightly disgruntled. "It's just your first year wasn't very great, considering your history and all. Your demeanour doesn't help either."

When will Mom understand? She places her cutlery down as gently as possible. She is unable to avoid the clang. "I'm a revolutionist, I can and have killed people, I'm not veiling my presence to anyone."

Kallen's Mom doesn't follow her routine. Instead, passing Kallen some of her side vegs. "No, you were a revolutionist. And the world was better for it, but now you're a normal girl. You just need to get yourself out there."

Mom keeps a soft face. "You still seeing that Britannia boy, Gino?"

Kallen nods absentmindedly.

Mom claps her hands together. "I'm glad you have someone to relate too."

If only that were true. Gino was far too optimistic about war.

The warm LED lighting flickers. Mom still hasn't called the technician yet. "Want to hear a tale. When you were young, you used to love hearing one after each dinner. Sometimes it was the only way to get you to eat your meals."

Mom laughs at her own joke.

Kallen's a grown woman. She doesn't want to hear tales for little girls. "Mom, do I look eight."

"Well, I want to tell one anyway, I love the tales too after all. Memorised all of them from my father."

Typical Mom, always going off on her own tangents.

"I've got just the perfect one, Karen. It always fired you up in your rebellious phase. The day after you would have bloody hands, never hiding your angry outbursts with the local Britannia gang."

Wait. Kallen can remember that fight. A group of Britannian men had robbed a Japanese establishment that Kallen loved. She charged them in an ally, but they had knives. If it weren't for her brother stepping in, then she would be dead. That was in junior school when Mom was forced to be a maid due to Britannia's rule.

Mom straightens her back. "This is the tale of Kahl Kōzuki, our great ancestor. In this battle, she sets up a battalion of soldiers to protect the Southern defence from the flaming giant, while their commander leads a suicidal charge. Their enemy: the tyrannous giants. Their formation is going strong, but the hairy giant catapults a jagged boulder, striking the charge. Kahl is left to hold down the fort. The soldiers are low on both morale and supplies, and she has to act fast. Kahl gives her life as a diversion for her soldiers to cut down the flaming giant, securing their victory. The hairy giant submits, and the land knows peace once more."

Kallen reaches the edge of her seat, knowing the end of this tale. Riding the nostalgia, she repeats the end with Mom. "Even with their victory, the soldiers still mourn for their fallen comrades."

Mom nods in approval, but Kallen can't help but frown. Kahl never got to fulfil her dream. Of course, there was a conspicuous moral in the story. Mom wants her to give up her military fondness.

Mom, sensing Kallen's dread, lays off the message. "Don't fret about it."

Kallen sighs, quelling her anguish. "No, it's fine. I'm happy you told me."

To undo the awkward mood, Kallen asks questions about the tale.

"Where was this land they saved?"

Mom rubs her chin. "Ahh, yes. It was Marley."

Marley?

Those magazines. In the library. Kallen's cover-up that quickly became one of her most dedicated pastimes, after Gino and Nina started quizzing her. The tales, they're the reason.

And now that she thinks about it, she saw Marley's name turn up often when researching the Mounds for Nina.

Kallen gives credit where credit is due, Mom is an excellent storyteller, but Kallen is no longer eight. She must be honest. Kallen slants her eyelashes down, not meeting Mom's gaze. "So this shady letter appeared in my dormitory."

Mom twists her smile in confusion. This isn't going to end well.

Kallen sighs. "It's a letter from the Japanese U.F.N envoy. It's a request to join the U.F.N peacekeeping force."

Mom's stoic face conveys her desperation. The gears in her head churn chaotically into an outburst. "You can't. They don't need you, they're peace-killers, not keepers."

Kallen expected this reaction; the guilt only intensifies. But it is the right thing to do. She raises her hand in submission, waiting for Mom to finish.

In truth, the letter's offer is appealing to Kallen. The military life satisfied her far more than socialising with naive children in university, but it would also restrain her too much. She has to keep her options open.

"I lied to you. Told you that I was doing fine in Uni. Truth is I don't fit in. I haven't found my path yet, but you know what? Your story made me realise something, I'm not going to find it in this letter either."

Kallen rips her letter, the shreds of paper covering her dish, but she doesn't regret it. Mom doesn't say anything; instead, she staggers around the edge of the table and embraces Kallen in a tight hug.

It's almost a nice, warm hug. But Kallen hesitates at the faint fishy smell that envelops her scent.

**Kallen has a goal, but she is unsure of the best path.**

**Thanks for reading, I will continue with Norwa Gateway next.**

**Feel free to ask questions in comments.**


	3. Year 1 Semester Two

Sitting on the throne is comfy – in short bursts. But the day just drags on, and Nunnally's rear is soar. Multiple tall and diverse figures sum her courtroom. The new U.F.N international speakers. The discussion is of great importance, and Nunnally is eager to show off her studied knowledge. Problem is, she's already met with her advisors. Their advice was sound, and Nunnally made it clear what she wanted to prioritise. Half of it is reinforcing decisions already made by Britannia's democratic government, which holds most, if not all, of Britannia's power. This meeting was already decided, all Nunnally could do was listen.

"Sayoko, welcome the next appointed authority, the Japanese Prime minister."

Kaname Ohgi, strides to the middle of the red carpet, bowing to her in an exaggerated pose. Eager to meet, but stumbling on his words. "Greetings Queen a, Nunnally. Good to meet you."

Nunnally clamps her teeth. She doesn't want to grimace, but his English is offputting. She'll tell him gently.

"It's been so long since I've been to Japan. Is it alright if we speak in Japanese."

"Yes, of course. Though, can I ask a personal matter." Nervous, Prime Minister Kaname slides his hands together. Nunnally is not surprised; the job is tough on Kaname Ohgi.

Nunnally nods. Kaname Ohgi breathes out nervously. "How's Kallen doing in that Britannian university?"

Kallen Stadtfeld, their mutual friend.

Remembering the feisty redhead brings a smile to Nunnally's face. Japan is very interested in their national hero. Even going as far as to send a job invitation to Kallen. Nina, reliable as always. Kallen declined, but Japan won't give up so easily.

Nunnally clasps her cheek, matching the Prime Minister's inquisitive eye contact. "She's very well. I received a postcard at the end of the semester." Nunnally proceeds to take out a photo of Kallen and her friends on the London Eye. The group is spread out in a carriage, onlooking the city. "Her boyfriend, Gino Weinberg, was giving her a tour of his favourite city. She loved the historic architecture, and is missing the cherry blossoms."

Prime Minister Ohgi delays in surprise. The successful tease pleases Nunnally.

"That's great." The Prime Minister smiles back. He's friendly, but Nunnally's wasting too much time.

Luckily an advisor interrupts. "Let's discuss the topic at hand."

Finally, her people can deal with the drabble. Nunnally stares out to her garden, the palace courtyard. The wildlife is very active today. Hares playing behind the hedges, beetles dangling on sunflowers, butterflies tasting their own feet. The remarkable daytime lives of animals, lately, fascinated her. Nunnally so wishes she could take in the fresh morning air.

Across the green clearing, a door jolters open, a tall man in foreign-military attire and a woman in a petite but over-jewelled dress. Court business isn't the only problem infecting Nunnally's calm and tranquil breaks: the new members of the cortege spoil the mood too.

The European man was given as a peace token by a non-U.F.N state. An unfortunate incident really, sold to a marriage with a spoiled duchess. They recently moved into the main palace, so Nunnally hasn't memorised their names. Not her fault. She rarely sees of the two, only hears them: their loud and frequent arguing.

And they begin again too. Nunnally cannot hear them from inside the courtroom, but their pained expressions make it all too evident. Nunnally swears to be impartial, but it's getting on her nerves.

The conversation with Kaname Ohgi ends. Moving back into rank, he takes the hand of a cloaked latecomer who seems eager to associate with all the speakers. Nunnally has no time to part with a smile. She keeps frowning, although it won't matter. Britannia and Japan maintain an increasingly close relationship. It's thanks to Nunnally's role that the under the table discussions progress smoothly. Kaname Ohgi is little more than a tool, he has no stake in altering politics. Decided, by the end of the year, he will be removed from office.

The next figure stands up, Polish, asking for Britannia's aid in various affairs. It seems some U.F.N states need assistance is pushing back the U.F.N Resistance. Nunnally planned to reject their proposals, but after a few too many reminders of Britannia's past crimes, she quickly agrees.

Nunnally doesn't let the loss fault her. She's learnt to be honest with herself. Recognise when she doesn't like something, but act rationally. Just like whenever she sees the new European in her palace. She looks out the window, seeing the European lying down on a chair.

Wait, the chair next to the wood top table? It jolts her memory. That man's title is General Klaus.

Nunnally sought out a conversation with the General a month ago. She wanted to prep herself mentality, not let her biases take control. Yet for one reason or another, Nunnally kept having to cancel her appointments. Then one morning, in the garden, when Nunnally was tending to her personal flower patch, she noticed General Klaus relaxed on a straw tied chair.

Short blond hair covered by a feathered hat. His complexion smooth, but Nunnally knew he was middle-aged. The lover spouts with his fiancee were evident. On that day, in the garden, General Klaus was transfixed by a large book, bounded in a think spine. No fancy highlights, just a plain dirty front. The title engraved with cuts. But that made it hard to read. Yet, it interested her, why did it need to be so unwieldy? The dimensions were particularly curious to Nunnally. None of the books in the palace library extended to such an unwieldy proportion.

So Nunnally wheeled up to the man to get a look. However, she could not get a close look, her wheelchair was lower than the table. But General Klaus was kind and took notice. Gave Nunnally a warm smile and pointed to the book.

"Interested?" His English, perfectly succinct and fluent.

Nunnally nodded, and the European General dragged his chair over, resting the book from his large thighs to his kneecaps. Nunnally stretched over as General Klaus flicked through the book. The pages delicately slumped down to the spine. Tattered edges, browning in colour, the book was old but not unkempt. A healthy spine, the cover and back covered in translucent plastic.

The content in the book sprawled both pages, it looked like old battle schematics. "It's an old journal of a war-hero from my family heritage. It's hypothesised that the author wrote it in his deathbed, or at least when he was sick. Unfortunately, it was never published."

Nunnally peered into the enthusiastic man's eyes. "Why not?"

His face lights up. It must have been the first time General Klaus talked openly about his hobby. "The author wanted this book to be an educational and historical compendium, but it was rejected due to only containing fictional battle plans. Explains why it's an only copy. But I think the publishers were mistaken. What I find so fascinating is that truth is layered throughout the myth. Look at this."

Nunnally kneaded her armrest, trying to read the massive spread.

On the left side, boundary lines form an off-scale wall. Names and magic weaponry list under soldiers crouching on the top. The bottom shaded to emphasise the wall's curvature. Then, on the right side, childish pictures form a hoard of enemies. Basic ovals overlap each other, constituting the body, legs and arms. Big eyes make silly expressions joined with giddy mouths and few teeth. One of the enemies is elongated, darted lines jumble across its body. Not quite like fur, but shaggy hair encompassing the entire body. The monsters stood under the taller trees, wavily drawn to fill in the gaps. Her eyes trail back to the middle, noticing the arrow stretching from the left to right page. Projecting along the treetops where a faint symbol for fire fades in with the sky. And below that, a name.

But the European turned to the next page spread. Mostly empty. On the right, the trees were replaced with stumps, flowing to the left where only the wall remained. But there's a difference. Squiggles segment the wall, and part of the boundary lines are scored out. General Klaus reaches into his pocket. "I can show you the real-life version. I've got photographs."

He slipped it out his pocket, showing the vast wall, towering over an empty field of grass. The middle carved out or damaged in an explosion. So bad that even the ground underneath had formed a crater. Yet the wall's edges were repaired. No structural integrity lost. Like the struts one day ran away. That spoke volumes for the construction.

"Where is this place?"

Then Nunnally remembers being interrupted. A nagging voice targeted to General Klaus. The fiancee, they came to complain again. Something about a dance recital, probably because they didn't stand out much in the last ball.

Both wore massive frowns that day. Nunnally might just get it now. Both deeply unhappy with their current marriage, they picked on each other. She shouldn't blame them, it's her duty as Queen to help her court.

South Africa, a member state not endorsed by the U.F.N, finishes a dialogue with Nunnally's advisor. Apologetic and complacent. A predictable outcome, accepting the sanctions in response to their contribution to project F.L.E.I.J.A. That terrible device.

So far, all countries adopting this strategy suffer economic downturns, and that's just the unintended consequences. The U.F.N has settled its survival on scapegoating Europe. All due to Britannia's sin.

Britannia wasn't benevolent under its rule, but they did stop the nuclear arms race. Europe was the one planning to strike any nation on the planet. As much as Nunnally hated to admit it, the U.F.N is right. She shouldn't be biased against Britannia – only her late father was to blame.

Clank. The last speaker strides to the courtroom's centre. Non-U.F.N, the man is draped in dark shades of green. Not just tall, the speaker's apparel intimidates her. The mask, it's not like Lelouch's Zero. It's polished. Shiny. The focus very much on reflection, on Nunnally. She doesn't want to think about herself. She has to move on. Her brother is dead.

Her breath becoming stale. No face, just a solid metal plate covers the speaker. That can't be allowed?

The man in metal curtsies.

"Excuse me, Queen Nunnally. You look rather pale. Maybe it'd be better if we talked outside."

Yes, the room's too stuffy. Nunnally should finally visit the garden. Breathing in, she turns to her advisor, needing to know that their security is intact. She blinks three times, they blink once. It's safe.

If it's not her life this man is after, then he must want to say something in secret. Perhaps a hint to the U.F.N Resistance. "Very well, you will assist in my walk around the palace grounds."

The helmet squeaks. Up and down.

Order among the speakers is delicate. They chatter to their peers without a care in the world. Nunnally's assistant, Sayoko Shinozaki, brings her wheelchair, lifting her into the seat. The man in metal takes the handles. No awkwardness, it is not the first time he's wheeled a person along.

Nunnally's assistant holds the exit door open, and still, the man in metal firmly presses his gloved hand on the handlebar.

The air changes to the pollen-filled garden. The glass door closes behind Nunnally. The chair wheels, step by step. The man in metal stays silent, letting the slight wind chill their bones.

"What is ailing you, child?"

Nunnally remains silent, instead, focusing on the bushes. Butterflies continue to taste their feet on top of leaves. Finding the most nutritious home to lay their eggs. The blue speckled wings are so pretty.

The man in metal bobs his mask above her.

"Sorry I must be too direct. Let's have an introduction. Queen Nunnally, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Jesse Strassburger."

Strassburger: The ex-international relations advisor for Marley. The one who signed their homeland's surrender to Nunnally's Father. Needing to know of her father's friends and enemies, she knows this man well. He's the reason Marley can't join the U.F.N, and why their economy is failing.

"So, you're Marley's traitor. If it weren't for you, Marley never would have built the shell casing for project F.L.E.I.J.A."

Strassburger taps on the wheelchair's handlebars; the noise not quite unpleasant, but the anger is evident.

"Well, luckily, Marley isn't here."

Nunnally looks up at the mask. Violet eyes, upon seeing the reflection, she recoils in fear. The grip in the handles stall. Did she cause that?

Strassburger spins the wheelchair a half-rotation.

"You're in pain, I can tell."

He snaps his fingers.

"I know what will help. Just ask me something?"

Nunnally shakes herself to recuperate from the sudden motion. This man is way too eager, and even though she can't see his face, she can tell he won't be satisfied without his theatrics.

Nunnally sighs. "Like what?"

He kneels down in front of her, supporting himself on her armrest.

"Any question you need the universe to answer."

The allure layering Strassburger's voice calms Nunnally. A sign of trustworthiness.

Anything? The violet eyes meet Nunnally. Like Lelouch?

"Well, what happens to the dead then?"

He pauses. Ominously ignoring Nunnally's question. "Anyone specific in mind?"

Can he only answer specific people or maybe places? Dammit, that stupid mask, she needs to confront it. "Where is Lelouch?"

The moment of truth: is Jesse Strassburger an angel or the devil?

"Very well. Lelouch vi Britannia is at a farm."

"What type of afterlife is that?" Nunnally's eyes reflect her violet fury.

The helmet shifts. "I cannot tell you where, but know that your brother is safe. Together with C.C."

Strassburger's metal plate offends Nunnally. His reaction is awkward, shifting again, noticing his annoying mask. Like he finally learned how to word a Haiku.

Jesse Strassburger twists his hands over his helmet, poping it off before overturning his hood. Strassburger keeps hold of the metal plate while rolling it down to his hips.

His eyes. Green. The only facial feature recognisable. The rest, covered in scarves. He points to Nunnally's chest.

No, her heart.

"I need you to keep that warm feeling of Lelouch. That Lelouch is ok. That you don't need to know anything else. Just that feeling. Because your role in politics is important. And knowing that, your brother wouldn't want your time wasted chasing his ghost."

A sigh, but this time, Nunnally can maintain eye contact. Jesse makes no signs of deceit. His stare, unwavering.

Who is this man? His answer is cryptic. But is it true? Is her brother alive?

She digs her arms into the chair's arm cushion. She needs to breathe. In, out. In, out. In. Blue, one of the butterflies from before. They flutter to her, perching themselves on her knuckles. They taste their feet. So beautiful. She feels relaxed.

Lelouch is alive. She can finally feel tranquillity in this garden. She looks at Jesse, the eyes reveal so little. But it's all the two need.

Jesse nods, uplifting himself and spinning the wheelchair. "Shall we continue with our walk?"

The chair whirls forward, regardless. Nunnally, and Jesse, they both observe the garden, turning the tiled corner. The wind lets down, the hares graze on the grass, and a General rests on the straw chair.

Tap.

Jesse pierces the air, the wind returning. "Let's get down to business. Queen Nunnally, I came here today to ask for your assistance?"

Nunnally turns her head to the wind, now battering her face. She waits to show strength.

Jesse fidgets with his helmet. "I require a leader. Someone who survived war and still possesses will."

Nunnally chuckles. "So we finally talk about politics. Not going to ask for Marley to be part of the U.F.N?"

"Right now, that's impossible.

Jesse shifts his gaze straight ahead.

"'My problem is, for the moment, I'm tied up. I need someone capable. Trustworthy. Someone loyal. I was hoping you know someone."

"Not very specific?"

Really, if Jesse needs someone loyal, they should find a veteran himself.

A sharp touch greets her head. Jesse presses his chin on top of her head. "You don't have to figure one out yet. I'll wait."

Jesse drums the handlebars. "Now, is there anything I can do for you?"

Nunnally listens to the silence. "Everything's good." She is calm. Tranquil.

Cough, cough. Jesse clears his throat. "I wouldn't go that far. What about the U.F.N Resistance? What's your stance on that?"

Another of her fears, stricken. The accuracy, scary. "Figured me out, huh. I guess it's obvious."

He's noticed what's missing. Nunnally hits her armrest out of frustration. Then she takes another breath in. Time to face the truth.

"Zero has left Britannia."

Nunnally lets it out. "One day, they came to my room and told me they couldn't do it any longer, pretend that the world was peaceful. And then, weeks later, the U.F.N Resistance is officially established. Starting their first and current campaign in Egypt."

Nunnally keeps fixated on the ground tile, only briefly allowing her doubts over Suzaku to come through. "It won't take long before people figure out Zero is the leader. I know you're busy, but I beg you, please, if you can, help Zero."

"That's a hard guarantee. Even if I'm not part of the U.F.N." Jesse closes his eyes. Silence, too long to be good. Nunnally has to do something.

She'll give Jesse what he wants. Someone in the palace dissatisfied with life, knowledgeable on war, and easy to sell.

Nunnally glances back to the General resting in her garden. He'll do. "Jesse, that man over there. He can be your leader."

"Huh," Jesse looks around. "The gentleman rolling over in his sleep?"

Nunnally's eyes are violet. They are piercing and controlling. It takes a little hesitation, but Jesse makes his way over to the General. Not sleeping, but the General is engrossed in his book. Nunnally observes. Both part of her garden now.

Perplexed, General Klaus takes notice of Jesse. "Excellent helmet. I'm a fan of that wear too, especially Zero's. The only perk of living here."

Jesse shuffles the scarves on the back of his head, but he realigns his posture, standing straight. "I have a position for you. A position on the frontlines. A leader's duty. Interested?"

Infectious, the General rubs the back of his head too, then salutes. "Possibly, my name is General Daedaro Klaus. Even if I'm stuck in this court, in my heart, I'm still a general of Marley."

Tension, then awkwardness. Jesse raises the palm of his hand. "Sorry, that's not ideal. I can't trust Marley again. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Very well, it is what it is." General Klaus heaves his book off the table, clasping his compendium shut.

"Wait, what is that?" Jesse takes hold of the book, causing the General's eyes to reel in delight.

Jesse reembraces the General. "Wait, maybe you can help me after all?"

The arthropod, still planted on Nunnally's hand, starts jumping up and down. It seems the two men are in agreement. General Klaus vigorously shakes Jesse's grip, swelling with the breeze.

Jesse turns back, meeting Nunnally's gaze. It's sorted, the walk is over. The deal, set in stone. The metal plate engulfs Jesse's head. Nunnally wheels herself back to the courtroom. Sayoko opens the door upon her arrival, ignoring the butterfly perching on the handlebar, letting its family hover into the room. General Klaus and the man in metal walk on through. Continuing further than Nunnally, they both reach the back of the courtroom.

The room is a rapid of wings. Usually, Nunnally's garden life is more disciplined. However, international speakers welcome the butterfly invasion. Nunnally doesn't mind either, the blue pigment is pleasant in the golden room.

And suddenly they disappear, fading from sight. Wrapping up the international speaker conference.

Nunnally hasn't learned a whole lot, the conference surprisingly uneventful. She looks at the man in metal. The reflection, unexpectedly, no longer scares her: eyes prideful, sharp, violet. A warmth spreads through Nunnally's tummy. She is ok.

The man in metal talks for the first time. "Thank you for your kind offer, Queen Nunnally. I will make good use of General Klaus."

It's a shame. The courtroom empties. Kaname Ohgi bows again before departing. General Daedaro Klaus leaves with the man in metal. Nunnally only wishes she got to see more of General Klaus's weird book. Something took her interest. What was it? She kneads her armrest. She jolts. In the flaming forest, the name below the arrow:

Kōzuki. Nunnally's heard it before, but where?

* * *

Gunshots. Distant. Only loosely suppressed by urban railings. The sky is grey. The market district littered with debris. Stuck in an old warehouse, Suzaku is lying in fear.

Sorrow filling his mind, Suzaku prays: Nunnally is now a young monarch in an uncertain time, and he wishes her prosperity. Pushing back the regret filling his heart, he reminds himself that the world coerced this path. Nunnally was so understanding, even indirectly endorsing him, giving ample opportunities for Suzaku to elude the court. However, now he has no such assistance.

The giant metal hunk approaches – leaps. Stubby cups pummel into the terrain, digging out the next trench. Sticking out a metal case, a cylinder camera marks the head. The Digger is black, yellow and industrial. A Knightmare Builder class designed for purely defensive measures, now protecting the infantry: all the enemy needs to hold dominion.

Shortened, rusty and crumbled, these last city block walls are all that remain between their line and the enemy. They started with many Knightmares. The civilians thought themselves lucky, but the Frames are old, only capable in the offensive. Suzaku's fellow soldiers had no luxury of a safe defence and the townsfolk don't mourn in concrete graves.

The line must be held. The enemy must not establish a defence. If they can keep the front for just a little while longer.

The Digger clears through the barricade, allowing the enemy to advance through the remaining city blocks.

"Fire."

A cry the soldiers follow, they duck up. Waves of bullets scattering forward and backwards. A man falls to the left. No, younger. A hot scar imploding the right side of his small head. Red plasma lingering over the skeleton.

The green light of his map flashes, blinding Suzaku from the view out his cockpit.

As leader, Suzaku keeps prone inside one of their last few Frame, nothing more than a Sakuradite canister. Segregated from the suffering of his troops. He wants to mourn. To shrivel up and die. But the map wasn't on his side, alerting him to the three projectiles set to collide.

"Mortars."

Above, the blast crumbles their entire watchtower. The only other Knightmare Frame collapsing through the ceiling. The cockpit struck open in flames. There is nothing that can be done.

It's now or never. The sacrifices can't be for nothing. Pulling back a joystick, Suzaku's small Knightmare darts from its pigeonhole.

His window slips upwards, pivoting with his Frame, rolling into the street clearing. Clatter. The second mortar fires, upturning the rest of his base, drawing the last of his soldiers out into the open.

No optical feed to see the enemy. Only a manual viewport obscured by the dust. The visor cracked, kept together by its compact form. Suzaku looks out the side to count his infantry.

The fellow soldiers are in disarray. One woman, twisted in tattered rags, attempting to camouflage. Another, a young boy, with little on, seared gash exposed across a tanned abdomen. Both their faces suspend like marionettes when they realise the Digger is still across the block, pass the market and into the crossing. They need motivation.

With canned static Suzaku leans into his Frame.

"As Zero, we are one."

"As one, we are willing."

"Willing, we will succeed."

The last soldiers turn, their attention gained. Limbs start to flail. Suzaku screams with his heart. The soldiers force on faces of fury. They understand, and as an instinct, they complete the chant.

"We succeed for the Myopic."

The third mortar fires. The troops deplete to droplets, as does the building. The old woman flattens with her rags. However, their rippling bullets carry on through. Steel pellets collapse heads, suppressing the enemy infantry. Their mutual symbiosis with the Digger lost.

Suzaku drives on. To the trench only half done. The Digger notices, the Frame pulls up its prolonged body to face him.

Suzaku passes two collapsed stores. Still too much distance.

The enemy clamps a metal arm to the ground. Two pistons slide back as a silver rod spins, penetrating the rocky surface.

Suzaku only reaches the end of the streetwalk. He's too late. The rod surges, changing to a superconductive red. Rippling, the terrain bursts into red, evaporating any remaining infantry.

Suzaku's Knightmare flips into horizontal mode, avoiding the evil radiation. Then skidding on shoulder wheels, his Frame thrusts upright again, but not without delay. The enemy pulls out the earth, heaving a molten red fist in his direction.

Suzaku's Frame won't survive the attack.

Bam – the Digger recoils back. The air pierces, untimely. A cannon fires from the left. The trajectory, long and shallow.

Tanks. Green camo rolls over the ruined city, in duplicating arrays, firing their turrets at the enemy's flooded army.

Reinforcements? All is not lost. They can hold back the U.F.N.

The Digger's red hand shoots past Suzaku, aiming towards the tank formation.

Suzaku's Knightmare Frame grabs hold, misaligning the Digger's shot. High, the improvised mortar passes over the slim vehicle, impacting harmless terrain. The form factor of the tank so advantageous, the Digger could not contend.

Suzaku, the Knight, holds the advantage now. Looking down on the Digger's patterned head, he lunges, inflicting a downstroke blow to the back of the metallic cranium. It bursts into a tangled mess. Lightened by a fuzzy electric charge with a low whining: its final scream.

The Digger ejection pod releases, the human unharmed as the pod ejects out the battlefield, into the air. Unfair. Suzaku raises a massive arm, aiming a side cannon at the sky. Why is he the one forced to deny protocol?

The Knightmare ejection protocol. Formulated by Britannia to preserve the lives of its own troops, coincidentally gaining significant public approval during the European conquest. Nowadays, any operation disregarding this rule is conversely seen as barbaric. But Suzaku could do it right now, it wouldn't change anything.

He feels the vines wrap around his body, tempting him. He's free to do it. The U.F.N is nothing but manipulation and propaganda. They couldn't unite Europe together, so instead, they're starving them.

Suzaku doesn't hold the same respect he once had for the Knightmare artform. Yet, the question lingers as his Frame aims a cannon in the air. It isn't right.

But what about the soldiers he's lost. The old woman vaporised by the terrain blast without a second thought. The U.F.N hide their own war crimes. At least Britannia kept their side of the bargain.

Suzaku lines his shot.

The rules from training flicker through his mind.

There can be no targeting of the Frame ejection mechanism, Frame pilots cannot act as regular infantry and must retreat without engaging in combat, and no shooting at pilots not in Frames.

It is a war crime to target retreating ejection pods.

The enemy lock-on-box flickers grey. Suzaku raises his arm, painting the box red, following the egg-shaped pod climbing further and further.

And it doesn't stop.

The smoke trail joins in with the sky, now a baby blue. Suzaku lowers his cannon.

Not worth it.

Bullets pound and press the pavements. Turning the Frame, Suzaku looks ahead at the continuing barking. The tank ambush has caused the enemy to panic.

Suzaku doesn't have long, but in this short time, he notices the tingle along the back of his neck. Something is clinging to his Frame.

Rotating his metal torso, Suzaku drops the object to the gravelly ground, then leans up to his visor. Seeing a glimpse of tanned skin.

One of the soldiers from the front line. Suzaku jumps in his seat. The mortars didn't kill them all. He kicks open his visor with his leg, releasing the latch to rush down to his fallen comrade.

He holds his breath. A pulse, they're still alive.

Suzaku scans the battlefront. No enemies are visible. The Digger's quake attack cleared the entire battlefield: the only infantry survivor is the young boy with little clothes on. Scorched in blood. He must've grabbed hold of his Knightmare Frame to shield himself from the mortar's shellfire at the last second.

A cough. "Zero?"

That's right, that is his role. Zero waves his hand over the boy. Eyes blink in delay, but he's still conscious and able to recognise him. The boy's vision shouldn't be too damaged by the blast, but his old wound is seeping blood out the rest of his abdomen. He needs medical attention.

The boy shuts his eyes and slips his head. Ignoring the louder distant thunder. The enemies counter-attack is coming; dozing off is not good right now.

Zero leans in close to Jade's ear. "Come on, stay awake. We're almost through it."

The boy doesn't respond, rushing him isn't working.

"What your name, soldier?"

A quiet whisper. "Jade."

Not a local name. His parents likely picked it due to Britannia's influence.

Boom. Another explosion closes in: more mortars.

Jade mumbles, eyes closed. "Did we win? Our guardians, they defeated the enemy? Right?"

Jade reaches upwards, eyes open upon Zero's Knightmare Frame.

"Our mighty giants of old."

Another one to adore the Knightmare Frames: the ravaging giants of myth. The original inspiration for Britannia's Knightmare Frames. A charming tale to prove humanity's superiority. Another common lie sold to the civilians.

Knightmares are not the central unit in combat. Right now, tanks are. And they need to get behind the frontlines, fast.

Zero shakes Jade lightly. "That's right, we crushed the main forces, but we need to regroup." Zero nods vigorously, expecting Jade to copy.

He doesn't, eyes shut again. Zero needs to entice him. "Isn't there something you want to do? We've got the time."

Jade raises his arm upwards again. "I want to look at the sky, see the stars."

That's not a death wish? Is it? Doesn't matter, Zero won't let it be. "So you want to be an astronomer? Let's go find a good scope back at the base then."

Zero pulls the Jade up, pointing to the one-person cockpit. "I need you to drive."

Jade opens his eyes, entirely in shock. Zero pushes him inside "Just turn the joystick and lie down on the pedal. Head towards the tank formation."

The boy doesn't have time or energy to reply, Zero shuts the cockpit visor.

Suzaku shivers inside his metal helmet, spotting the cracking of the Earth. The dark tentacles seeping out. He shakes his head, letting the sharp headache pass. This always happens. Whenever Suzaku puts his life in danger.

And sometimes it's too compelling. Suzaku moves his hand back to the Frame, but as Zero, he pulls it back. Suzaku can't let it control him, instead, allowing the Knightmare Frame to move freely.

Boom. Another distant explosion. But that's not all that follows. Footsteps. Enemy Knightmare reinforcements. Suzaku bolts after his Knightmare Frame, using it to shield himself from the oncoming bullet storm.

Running, Suzaku tries to keep up with the human-shaped vehicle. They pass various electronics shops through the market. He staggers, his purple cloak, tripping him over bricks. Bullets repel off the metal Frame.

Suzaku gasps for breath, thankful for his Frame's slower pace. Jade is unfit to operate the vehicle quickly, the only reason Suzaku is not defenceless.

The tanks now reside at the collapsed warehouse. They've almost made it.

Crash.

The mobile Knightmare tumbles into the half-finished trench. No. They are sitting ducks here.

Bullets nibble at Suzaku's feet. He leaps into the ditch, keeping his body narrow.

Another pain shivers his Skull, Suzaku's in danger. He needs to use the Knightmare, get behind the tank line.

He clambers to the Frame cockpit, keeping out of sight. Suzaku feels for the handle and pulls the visor open. Lifting himself in to clench the joystick.

A small corpse leans into him; Suzaku recoils in fright. It's Jade, his face worn in pain. The neck jolts upwards, opening watery eyes. "Sorry, I screwed it up. Didn't I?"

Suzaku lets go of the joystick. He is not leaving the kid here. Slumping Jade over his shoulders, Suzaku falls out the Knightmare Frame.

Suzaku's legs crumple from the landing. Carrying the wounded Jade on his shoulder is more cumbersome than he thought, but Suzaku can't let the rare experience wear on him.

Dragging his feet around the ditch, he dodges bullets. What is keeping him alive right now: skill, luck, or his curse.

Violet eyes flash in the inside of Suzaku's mask. Fool. People don't resolve their anger. Least of all, when a despised artificial dictator sacrifices themselves. All it caused was this unstable world.

Suzaku thrashes his head, scrambling his leg movement. Why is he thinking of that man, at a time like this?

The allying tanks advance, shooting low. The air shudders above Suzaku's helmet. His eyes shut in reflex. All Suzaku can hope is that this additional exposure slays the enemy's suppression fire.

He focuses on the impact of his footsteps. One, two. One, two. He passes the tank. Sukazu will get Jade to the warehouse.

One, two. One, two. Almost there.

Whiplash.

Suzaku is struck, his helmet recoiling. Sent flying to the side, his body twists, landing on his front. Taking all the impact from the cracked earth.

He hears shouting. A soldier? He struggles to glance up. They're clad in full gear, bulky, carrying the barrel end of a rifle. There are multiple of them, bickering at each other.

This isn't the rest of the Rebellion. Suzaku should have thought it through. There's no way his army retrieved this number of tanks in such a short time frame.

"Men, behave yourselves. Can't you recognise the humanity before you." A lanky individual, clasped in white, bumps through the men. Polished boots clanking over the rough ground.

The man in white leans down, reaching above Suzaku's shoulders. "Son, you alive?"

Splattering and coughing drool down Suzaku's neck. In panic, Suzaku whips his already dull head.

"Jade?"

Bullet wounds. There's many but only in his limbs. Nothing a healing centre couldn't fix. Suzaku turns to the man in white.

The man wears an E.V.A helmet, much like Zero. Its base is white, with an orange visor, swinging to his men.

"These two need medical personnel immediately."

The men stall.

"Do you not recognise who this is? This is the hero of Europe: Zero."

Only then do the men rush to pick Suzaku and Jade up. Pain ricochets through Suzaku's body. He checks his left arm, glimpsing the blood trails tearing the back of his muscles.

"Zero, I am Infinity. I have heeded your call to keep this city under U.F.N Resurrectionist territory. I am here to confirm that Marley officially supports the Rebellion."

Infinity straightens their posture, shaking Zero's hand, consoling his shoulder. The sky is so bright behind him.

This unexpected news. It should invigorate Suzaku. Allow him to welcome his new ally; ever since this war started, Suzaku's effort has always lacked firepower. But his spirit quickly evaporates. He is just so tired of it all.

This is the justice of the new world. The enemy's advance is lost. But with the allied infantry wiped out, this wasn't a win. The attack came without warning. No homes are left standing. Worse, there are no families to return. Just another piece of land to be sold to the highest bidder.

He catches Infinity's men lift the spazzing Jade up on a stretcher. The last survivor, fighting for their home.

And this repetition of violence will never cease.

**Jesse has made his move, recruiting the latest masked cursader, Infinity, to his cause.**

**Thanks for reading, I will continue with Norwa Gateway next.**

**Feel free to ask questions in comments.**


	4. Year 2 Semester One

The marble floors bubble into a diffusion of light. Foam splashes over the walls. Everyone is jaded in blue, listening to the ringing tune of the Orca whales. Their glitter scattering along the ocean.

The disco ball spins in the dark. The rainbow sparkles only giving faint hints of unfamiliar faces. Shirley waits in the corner, having no will or ability to act in this crowd. Only waiting for one.

Kallen.

Shirly spots her reentering the aquarium-themed club, wearing a thin mermaid costume with red scales that accent the arch of her back all the way down to the costume's tail. It's a risky outfit, exposing Kallen's skin to the elements.

Kallen seems happy with the extra attention it grants her, yet, unaware that she is the next target. Unquestionably drunk, a taller figure stumbles into Kallen causing her to frown up at the giant. She relaxes when recognising Gino. Still doesn't stop her pushing him back into the crowd.

Gino knocks into smaller students who become even more unbalanced than the royal man. The party quickly becomes a domino effect, the bumping becoming a procedure for all the attendees. Gino's lanky frame energetically bounces in response. No one pays it any mind.

"Found you."

Gino hastily spins. He leans in to whisper, but his voice is way too loud, so much so that even Shirley can hear it through the mob.

"Kallen. Listen. I have someone who wants to meet up with you."

Gino waves his drink to Shirley.

Shirley's been at this party for half an hour. Despite Gino, and Kallen arriving together, it's taken up until now for Gino to remember Shirley's request.

Kallen's lips are quick. Again the room is loud, Shirley can't hear the reply. But more conversation follows. Kallen's body language wavers, holding back her hand residing in a scaly pocket. She looks lost for a moment. Shirley can relate, it's too loud to banter in this environment.

Gino continues in quieter tones, and it causes Kallen to swing her head, oscillating until she focuses on Shirley. And in a moment of concluding pause. Kallen smiles. That's good – Great.

Shirley strains her lips into a right-side smile, but she doesn't maintain her desired level of eye contact. Instead, keeping her head low. This social amplifies her insecurities: A diverse and mixed room, not typically Japanese or Britannian. The group is too big for Shirley to connect to.

Gino's loud voice grates her again. "Here she is Shirley."

Having to lift her head high, Shirley opens her mouth aghast. Gino's warmth could almost be contagious. She blushes in the uneasy conflict of emotions: wanting to either smile back or smack him.

In the end, Shirley keeps herself hidden. Gino gets too playful in the silence, causing Kallen to stumble into his pining. "Come on, let's have fun."

Shirley clusters inward again. She doesn't want to stay here for too long: she just needs to get Kallen on board.

For Kallen to acknowledge her.

"Hey Gino, I think Shirley wants to talk to me privately."

Kallen's voice: a contemplative sound. Not quiet, not loud, but not quite kind either. Looking up, Kallen's eyes are focused, aggressive. Not in a hostile way, more defensive. At least, that's what Shirley assumes. Kallen was a Frame pilot for the Rebellion, and as a soldier has to have endured terrible horrors. No justification is needed for why Kallen's always dialled up to eleven.

"So how have things been going?" Kallen's easygoing. It throws her off. A good thing. Small talk – a natural start for a reunion.

"I've been fine." But Shirley is weak at this.

The room is swimming with clusters of students enjoying the costume party. Yet, all Shirley wears is her old cardigan; finding difficulty connecting to people if it's not through real-world-events.

"It never feels right. Just a few years ago it felt like Britannia ruled the seven oceans. Now it's bustling with many ships."

"Yeah. Time sure does change everything. We've both managed to avoid drowning in our grief, making it out the other end."

Kallen leans back on the wall, adjacent to Shirley, exposing her back. And that makes the rough texture of the pimpled wall all the more noticeable. Shirley peeks at Kallen for courage. Her old high school friend – she will understand.

"Kallen, I need to ask you —"

"You know you look like a salmon." Kallen chuckles at her own silly joke.

The beacon from a miniature lighthouse illuminates them.

Pouting, Shirley pets her long ginger hair, undeserving of that mockery. Besides, Kallen's the one dressed as a fish.

Noticing the offence, Kallen defends herself. "Sorry? Fish pun."

Shirley remains confused, letting time pass. The room maintains a consistent and distracting tempo, turning Shirley's thoughts funny. Kallen's a fool. Challenging Shirley to a fish pun battle; she doesn't know what she's in for.

Over the past few months, Shirley has been listening stories from many sailors and with that time she's amassed an entire repertoire of marine-life knowledge. So, what would be the best fish to describe Kallen? Maybe the Kaluga; large, ambitious, and ferocious.

But Shirley misses her chance to retaliate. Kallen has left her distracted aquarium. "I've been practising my swimming. How about you? Made any diving headlines lately?"

Shirley's favourite hobby. It's been some time since she last focused on pools, but she won't let Kallen worry. Bracing, with eyes closed, "Just going through the loops right now. You know how things are."

Kallen rolls her eyes away, then frowns. "I didn't see you at swimming internationals. Have you been practising at all?"

Shirley's been caught, never thinking Kallen's would prance in her waters. Naturally gifted, but for Kallen to get competitive at swimming. How overachieving is she?

Ashamed, Shirley drops her eyes to the digitised floor where fish nibble at her feet. Throughout the room, 2D fish flock around the migrating feet. Clustering at specific shoes. A computer in the clouds will churn through the algorithms, forming preferences on the best dancer. Most likely landing on the fastest pair of heels.

No, that's not it. It's not that Kallen is racing ahead of her, It's that Shirley has stalled.

Shirley curses under her breath. It doesn't matter; there's a reason.

Kallen's gaze is seeping with scepticism, but Shirley crosses her hand over her chest to appeal to the Wyvern.

"I want you to join an expedition with me."

The offer is bold, and it causes Kallen to recoil in confusion. Shirley fumbles.

"I've been working hard at it, and with a little help from Milly, I think I can find Lelouch."

Kallen slumps down on the wall. And just when it looks like she'll respond, Kallen instantly stops herself. Instead, eyeing the ground, as if she is in great pain.

The reaction is worrying, but Shirley won't just accept defeat. She transported Lelouch's body herself after all. To that ritual sight where the witch, C.C, said they would save him. But did it work?

Shirley's memory is a blur – hazy. Like someone deliberately tampered with it. All she has to go on is the moment that man shunned her off the fields. When their metal helmet banged into Shirley's forehead; blocking her from the truth.

Kallen clicks her tongue in annoyance, but the fact she's still here means she's willing to listen. Shirley leans off the wall, recalling her hard earned investigation.

"Have you heard of the new war-front the U.F.N are keeping quiet on? The reports coming out from Southern Europe and the Middle East? They're forming a new Rebellion to revoke the Myopic title. And all of it is related to a certain masked individual."

"It's a new Zero. And they're not leading a rebellion. It's a resistance. A resistance to the U.F.N's impossible challenge: to salvage Europe. This was always going to happen, but that doesn't mean the resistance deserves sympathy."

"Europe didn't deserve such heavy sanctions. They may not have fully sided with the U.F.N against Britannia, but our issues should be solved via diplomacy."

The ambient track changes the theming of the room, switching to a darker shade of blue. Kallen cuts the atmosphere, standing tall in such a demeanour that no one could interrupt.

"The U.F.N needed to keep the peace. Punishment had to be delivered before we all annihilated each other. Listen, this is all a necessary consequence of Europe's actions. They also worked on the F.L.E.I.J.A project. A front to steal the technology. Because even though Britannia held the weapon of mass destruction, unlike Europe, Britannia lacked the infrastructure to send it intercontinental. A flaw Europe almost exploited. Only because Britannia detonated F.L.E.I.J.A over Tokyo, were the U.F.N able to gain control of the situation."

Shirley can't take Kallen's constant justification for the U.F.N. "That was Britannia's fault. How come it's the least affected by the sanctions?"

"Britannia is a major player. Peace is the goal, and the U.F.N succeeded. The areas that Britannia gave up were welcomed into the U.F.N"

"They were sanctioned."

"Those sanctions let this world be free from a cold war. Or would you rather every country have a nuclear arsenal?"

Don't quell the U.F.N's actions down with globalism.

No, that's not the matter. Kallen is leading her down a tangent. Shirley needs to cool down. "Let's just end the conversation here. It's not what I wanted to discuss."

Agitated, Shirley bites her tongue in silence. Kallen makes a similar click. Such spiteful tenacity, but Kallen comes from a completely different world.

The Black Knights – terrorists to revolutionaries. A group that formed close bonds while fighting for survival. Bonds that Kallen must miss. And with their victory, Kallen's mission is over. All she has left of those friendships is the world left behind.

Shirley knows this.

"So. My research concluded that there is an anonymous masked figurehead embezzling supplies and utilities from Britannia and Marley."

Kallen, quiet with her secrets, declines into the wall, her lips curl sideways.

"Reports do state that Zero is leading the U.F.N in Marley. But that is most definitely not Lelouch. He's the person who assassinated him."

"I know that. But this is different. I'm not talking about Zero, but someone unknown. Not directly affiliated with the Rebellion. Lelouch's plan wasn't perfect, so this could be his way of devising a solution."

"The world will never be perfect."

Kallen mumbles pessimism; still believing Lelouch to be dead. Shirley tightens her core.

"Reports have stated this masked man can make anyone follow his demands. Just like Lelouch."

Kallen's face contorts into a sharpened display off teeth. "Stop it — this your deal? Letting a dead man control your life."

Why is Kallen so angry now? The Kaluga releases an onslaught.

"You're spouting nonsense. You can't take a year out of your life to explore a warzone just to find your dead boyfriend."

Kallen leans in close, forcing Shirley to press herself against the wall. She forgot how scary this tomboy could be.

Kallen seethes in her mood. "I was distracted once. Letting the pointless things hinder my potential. I should have led the Black Knights right from the start. Ohgi never could manage to keep it on its feet, just like being Prime Minister. You were right before. The Myopic should never have come to pass. That's what happened when I gave up my desire just because some nobleman gowned on a mask and feigned authority."

Kallen grins into a smile then presses her face against Shirley's. "You can be so much more too."

Too confusing: one minute angry, the next calm. And now, too close.

Kallen, with tempting eyes, caresses Shirley's cheek. "You could make the Olympics if you really tried. Why don't you for once, just do something for yourself?"

Their lips press against each other. The kiss is soft and quick.

Shirley hovers in place, Kallen's arm pinning her to the wall. Their breaths join with each other's necks.

No, she'll find out.

"What's the perfume, it smells fishy?" Kallen's eyes return to view, irises reflexing into pity, but it's too late.

"Get off." Shirley pushes Kallen's chest, toppling both of them over.

Kallen lands headfirst, her cheek slamming against the tiles.

What is Kallen doing, why is she acting weird?

Shirley sways her body up. Kallen was too quick to give up on Lelouch. She has to remind her. "You love him."

Kallen nurses her cheek as she stumbles in place, crying. "What would you know? I'm an alien to you. We've never really met. Just some poor imitation of a schoolgirl."

Kallen strides away, bumping into multiple students before running out the room. Small startles fill the aquarium.

"Come on, wait." Gino joins in the charade. Making it to Shirley's side, trying to reach out after Kallen, but Kallen is already gone. He won't be helping her tonight. Gino turns and tends to Shirley, checking up on her, to make sure she's fine.

But Shirley's not: fate has punished her, forcing her to find Lelouch alone.

* * *

Outside, the night is cold and dark. Kallen searches the corners for absence, resting on top the banister leading to the university pitches. The wind whispers, but there is no stalker.

Kallen leans into her scaled covered knees, pincer gripping the foil. The vicinity is empty, but even here, jumps still scare. The recollection of the party haunts her, never giving Kallen a break.

Yelling, flirting, and delusions.

She went too far. Kallen can't live it down, why did she even kiss Shirley?

Love? Seduction? Manipulation? Maybe all of them.

Kallen lets out tears. She just wants Shirley to live a happy life. But she doubts anything will deter the girl from the suicidal voyage now.

With her clawing, Kallen pulls the seams of her dress apart.

Such a stupid party, making Gino drunk and distracted. He couldn't even be there for Kallen when she needed him the most. Missing their date beforehand; failing to help Kallen with her decision. Has Gino grown bored of her too?

Kallen gazes out at the concrete yard, focusing on the tennis court.

And Shirley's tangent.

"Europe didn't deserve such heavy sanctions."

But they oppose the U.F.N?

"Our issues should be solved via diplomacy."

Kallen crawls into herself. She understands Shirley's point of view; she really does. She wanted it herself, but it's clear to everyone, it's too late to fix Europe.

Kallen thinks back to the dinner with her mother; when she tore up the letter. Kallen can't let the U.F.N's peace be contested. The news made it clear, every day, more and more attempts are made to undermine the U.F.N's work.

Maybe tearing up the first letter was the wrong choice. Kallen should have acted earlier. Be as brave as Kahl from Mom's story.

"Kahl gives her life, securing their victory."

The myth wept for the Kallen, but she had a dream, to live in a free world – a society that held no wrong values.

"Even with their victory, the soldiers still mourn for their fallen comrades."

In sacrificing her life, Kahl never got to fulfil her dream, but at least she still fought for it. And that's what Kallen needs to do. Just smarter, take control of the situation.

A stray breeze ripples the tennis net. It should have been packaged away, but some people become too attached. Kallen sighs.

Why does Shirley have to be so obsessed with Lelouch? Kallen wants nothing more to do with that man. He's already deceived her enough as it is. The U.F.N was practically founded on his death. If he were alive, it would betray her entire trust in the world. Who could follow an institution set up by a performance?

Kallen curses herself. She should stop considering Shirley's delusions. Like hell, the coalition of nations would be orchestrated by a single person – the world isn't so fragile.

Kallen will prove Shirley wrong. She slips her letter out her inner pocket, becoming all too familiar with the insignia of the U.F.N.

* * *

The ancient temple is solid and grey, reflecting the hot day. Even the pillars leaned in, recoiling from the absorbed heat. Revealing the giant statues, packed one after the other in ghoulish carvings.

The Trail of Giants. A polylith of curved monsters rumoured to strike a curved boundary throughout all of the Middle East. And up to much debate, does this by burrowing through the very Earth. Just political dissembling. However, this point of the trail isn't a long wall of monsters, but a temple. One of several on the trail. But why did Infinity want to go here?

Suzaku looks up to the base's hidden defence. Turrets mounted in the roof's triangular prism. Following, the line of sight, spinning 180-degrees, Suzaku looks upon the landscape. Dunes and dunes of yellow sand. Holes dug in for the sleeping tanks. And at the base of the temple, his soldiers' chatter, mingling in with the Marlians wearing black armour.

It makes it seem that partnering with Infinity was a good choice. His support, encouraging many of the other Myopic nations to grant soldiers to unite in their cause. And even able to convince the odd U.F.N soldier to join their brigade. Their Rebellion.

Where will fate bring it?

The soaring heat cooks Suzaku in his plastic costume, waiting too long for his meeting with Infinity to begin. But even this is bearable compared to the paralysing beat of his heart last night. Where the whole Milky Way was spread out before him. The stars that littered the sky – the stars that brought Jade such joy. The stars that wained down against Suzaku.

Jade could rigorously observe every detail under the lens. An ability that would make anyone want to participate too.

Suzaku's coarse sigh clumps the dry air against his mask. If only he didn't peak through the scope.

He's no astronomer. When he gazes into the blackness between the stars, he doesn't think of the universe's hidden wonders. All he can see is the ominous unknown. His skin pimpled from the realisation: how tiny he is. That even all his suffering, his burdens, his sins, can not matter in the vastness. And it scares him. Then his vision swung back to the galaxies full of varying hues of blue and red. Catching the odd shapes they made: the weird crawling of gas curling around the clusters, like they were consuming the life-force of the universe.

Suzaku grabs his chest, fixating on his rapid breathing. Just remembering the night is causing him problems.

He looks across him to the younger soldiers — the children. He smiles at recognising them, enough to forget about his horrors. Calm, he watches them prop up aginst boulders under the heat, surrounding the remains of the makeshift telescope.

"Jade, what's it like being saved by Commander Zero. It must have been so cool."

Sandra Rector is puffy and cheery. The Rector's talk well for a second language.

Jade leans back in embarrassment. "Not going to lie, looking back on it — I'm the luckiest kid ever."

A tight knot twists in Suzaku's chest, Jade has learnt the common language well. Who knew he'd be such a whizz?

"Show-off." Alie Rector, just as puffy, mocks Jade. Then leans against Sandra, resting contently. Suzaku always struggled to interpret Alie's type of banter, whether they were playing with the other soldiers or trying to pick a fight with the officers. Defiance, reminiscent of a familiar tomboy.

The Rector's are often questioning Zero on their activities, even though Suzaku doesn't have the answers. It makes him think, is he doing the right thing; letting Infinity call the shots. What would Kallen think?

"Alie, don't be envious." Sandra nudges their head against each other, flicking her blue highlights into Alie's red fringe.

"Sandra, stop poking me. I was just playing."

Sandra carries on talking to Jade.

"We've done our fair share on the frontlines too."

Sandra is the prideful half of the Knightmare. Alie is the confident half, crossing a hand over their heart.

"Yeah, you should stick with us. We're your newest Frame pilots. It'll be impossible not to notice us. I bet we'll be the only Frames on the frontlines."

Jade scratches his forehead, eyes closed, forcing a smile. "I'd rather stay behind a tank? I've seen Frames. They're just for show."

Jade's opinion of Knightmare Frames has lowered as time goes on; Marley's line of defence, too appealing.

Alie sits upright, urging Jade. "We're different. Trust us. We passed all our national tests with flying colours."

Sandra taps in. "Top scores of 300 in all six tests. I bet we could even give Zero a run for his money."

Sandra turns to Suzaku with a wink. But Suzaku has an image to keep. He can't let her comment go unpunished. "The Rectors, as confident as ever I see. But it's going to take more than numbers to impress me."

"Of course," Alie snides.

Suzaku's playing, he knows the types of tests performed at Frame piloting academies. Those scores are no joke. Top-performing Knightmare pilots have high mental prowess. Excelling at most tasks physically, perceptively, and emotionally strainful. The specific requirement is infrequent in humans, highly sought out by Nations. Yet here they are, two young prodigies, joining the Rebellion – from an enemy state no less. What's their age? Fourteen. Would be similar to Jade's.

Alie snaps their fingers in Suzaku's direction. "Zero, how come you never talk about Kallen Kōzuki? She was your best warrior. I thought you'd at least bring her up."

Suzaku turns slowly. An odd question.

Last time he saw her was over a year ago: Suzaku was hosting company for Nunnally. Lunch, board games, and an evening ball. Kallen was initially difficult on arrival, old wounds causing Kallen to lash at Suzaku. Even blaming him for Lelouch's death. Ranting about the delicate state of the world.

And Suzaku persevered through all that, having no qualms with her pessimistic outlook. However, it was making Nunnally upset. So after too many damning truths, Suzaku decided to scold Kallen outside.

Coming back from the fake break, they uncovered a jealous Nunnally who after the next turn, sent the board game flying in the air. A misunderstanding, but it broke the tension, and they all laughed. A good memory. Suzaku and Kallen must've become good friends that day. Yet now they're on opposite sides again. If he ever meets Kallen, where will they stand?

The Rectors wait on Suzaku expectantly. He'll have to play the role of Zero, even if he only started to get closer to Kallen after her leave from the Black Knights.

"There's not much to say. Kōzuki had talent and followed my strategies."

"So your relationship was purely platonic."

This is a jest? Sandra is jesting, right?

"You're implying we were even friends. But we were only allies, with a common goal, one we no longer share."

Suzaku knows that his words might not be exact, but it's all the children should be concerned with.

Sandra rocks her head. "Nah, Kallen will come around. I'm sure of it."

Alie bumps up and down like a distractful puppy. "Zero, is the roadmap finalised yet? I want to know where we're heading next? When will we be sticking it to the U.F.N bureaucrats."

"I'm waiting on Infinity for that." Suzaku can not disclose those details. The data is still sensitive.

"No hints?" Alie is persistent.

They should stop pestering him. "None." Suzaku turns, flicking sand at the kids with his cape.

He won't leave yet. Someone should keep a lookout over the kids.

Jade digs into his own cheek, more interested in the other children. "You two are Polish? Part of the U.F.N, right? Why fight against them?"

The two turn into a mutual gaze, but Sandra spins round first. "That's easy. We fight for what's right." Alie nods in unison. "But our parents weren't too happy about it."

Sandra takes Alie's hand into the air. "Don't worry. We're traitors now."

Jade eases into his sitting position. "That's a strong conviction. I admire that."

Suzaku won't go easy on them. "Conviction is built from your past."

Sandra looks hurt, not used to the pressure. But Alie provides support, focussing on Jade, not caving in for Zero. "True, but it's not hard to find injustice in the world."

Alie leans back, into story mode, letting go of their wry smile. "Have you heard about abductions. Like actual abductions. Not the strange lights in the sky crap – military abductions. You see, we used to hang out with this new kid in town, Jana. Jana Kapoor — she was younger than us, but we used to play together all the time. On weekends we'd go down to this park next to a coiled fence. Always wondering what was behind the wires and making all sorts of theories about extra-terrestrials or weird sacrifices to Gods. Counting every single thunderstrike. We never could confirm our suspicions. There were these fancy guards, in black suits and sunglasses. Anytime we strayed too close to them the Kapoor family would chastise us. I got annoyed, thought they were too scared of all the rumours we made up. Yet, I always let Jana convince me to stay away. Because her family had to be wary: they were descendants of the Moon. It was just a saying from their clan's tradition. So afterwards we'd go back to watch the news on the TV, cheering at the Knightmare battle footage from Zero's Rebellion. And the Kapoor parents would jest along with our parents. They were like any other family."

Suzaku can already guess the ending; agitation ran rampant in Poland during Lelouch's reign. Alie's story is a tragedy.

"It happened a couple months later. Our local council held a public event in the fenced-off area behind the park. The guards opened the gates, dragging in family after family – claiming they were Britannian spies. Said they needed to show Britannia not to involve themselves in Europe. They had allowed anyone from the community to enter the area, surrounding a rock pile. A stone was thrown, then another, and another."

But a harsh breath catches in Alie's throat. In sympathy, Sandra finishes the rest of the story with a worn voice.

"They forced everyone to watch, said it was for the good of Poland. The bodies were crumpled and bloodied. But at that moment Alie and I didn't act, we just sat there, focused on the ground, in fear — watching. They crushed Little Jana. A stone the size of a ping-pong ball jutting out her skull."

The especially gruelling end causes Alie to shudder out their words.

"I don't get it. Why our community became so opposed to letting in refugees. I was so angry, powerless, afraid. I'm always thinking back to it, to what evil those guards were hiding. Because the Kapoors' execution wasn't the facility's purpose, it was a message. They were hiding something, and not just Britannia, but the whole world. And the U.F.N only encouraged this."

Dry tears slide down Sandra's face, angry at the unresolved injustice.

"The Kapoors were seeking freedom one way or another. I don't know where Jana was from, but I know she was living somewhere in the Middle East with her family. Her parents looked Indian, but it wouldn't make sense for Indian refugees to be in Poland, in our community. Could be a long-running family, those ones that flee areas of conflict along the Trail of Giants."

Alie looks back to the temple. "Wonder if they ever came here?"

The hot sand they stand on becomes uncomfortable. With the story over now, everyone is silent. Not out of shock: horror is too familiar here. Suzaku only hopes he could one day give a respectful response to the two.

Fortunately, it doesn't last, Sandra nudges Alie playfully; must be because they're kids. "A motivating tragedy, but Jade, let's be honest. We have another reason for wanting to fight the Rebellion."

"Which is?"

"The Gurren."

Please, don't say anything stupid?

Embarrassed, Alie pushes Sandra over their seat. "It's because Kallen Kōzuki fought for revolution, no matter the strain on her privileged life."

That is true. Kallen is known for her virtuous constitution.

Sandra bursts from below. "Curvy, hot, a raging desire for justice. What's not to like."

Alie pushes his sister back down.

"We would see her every day in the news. Giving out these confident smiles, that would make everyone else feel easy. I wanted to be just like her. So when Sandra brought her up at the dinner table, I knew what we needed to do. Following Kallen's footsteps, we joined our local Knightmare pilot academy."

"After the reformation of Europe, we took issue with the sanctions opposed on other countries for the Tokyo incident."

"Yeah, that was Suzaku's fault."

Not wrong there but Suzaku clutches his chest, crippled by the 35 million deaths.

Jade glances at him with sad eyes. Why is he staring at Zero like that – like he knows?

Sandra exaggerates her gestures.

"I wish I could have seen it when the Gurren finally struck down the Lancelot — Pow."

There we go, just what Suzaku expected. Why an annoyance was building up under his skin. They don't see Kallen as a person, they see the Gurren. The posture child of war.

Suzaku fails to complain. Jade switches topics almost immediately.

"I get it now: Alie-Sandra — Alexandra."

Sandra squeezes her cheeks together, hiding her frown. "How does some Egyptian know? I'm so embarrassed, we haven't heard that nickname since primary school."

They all laugh.

A diversion. Jade knows something, of course he does; Jade's a smart kid. Always trying to keep the peace. Suzaku would feel bad encroaching on their fun. The kids should enjoy their carelessness while they still have it.

Alie pulls on a fingerless glove, dark red and matted. As if on instinct, Sandra replicates the stretching on her identical gloves: blue.

Sandra jumps up on her legs, screaming her manta to the sky. "I'm fighting because Kallen Kōzuki is my hero."

Alie twists to their Knightmare Frame. "When she joins us, we should ask her to tat our Frames."

Alie smiles, cheerfully but Suzaku can't handle any more naivety. He steps to leave.

Bump.

Masks collide. Disorientated, Suzaku turns to see a man coated in white. Infinity is quick to recollect himself.

"Come Zero, we should discuss the roadmap." Infinity ascends wide concrete stairs, into shadow.

Suzaku takes a step up for the grand stairs. Then another, becoming weary from the burning light. He lunges, into the shade, his sweat only increasing. A fanged head glares down on him.

Suzaku turns away, back to the kids, almost walking backwards.

Jade ambushes the Rectors in a hug. Squeezing their three heads together. "I'm so glad. You're just normal."

Alie and Sandra squirm in confusion. Alie strains their head. "What're you talking about." Oblivious to Jade's meaning.

But the scene is nice, gives Suzaku the courage to pass hollow statues. That is until he turns back around.

But Suzaku wished Jade was beside him again. That kid knew everything about these ruins. From the grins littering the walls to the full aerial layout. But thinking about it makes it worse. Much worse. On the top of a flipped pillar, a gust blows from behind: an open mouth. The hungry face growls at Suzaku.

He's in the middle of it now. A tangled swamp of stone. Hot rubble that beats blood. With every clambering step, Suzaku sludges through viscous mould, filling the air like tentacles filling up the intestine track.

Dammit. Where is Infinity? Already in his office?

He leaps to the next step, but that causes a chain reaction. Each step suddenly as hot as a grill, boiling his feet. Suzaku can visualise his feet searing into slices, his shoes disintegrating. Nothing can ease this discomfort. He debates: Will it be easier to accept his fate? Stand still? Because then maybe there's a chance it's all in his mind. That it'll stop.

But his body keeps trudging forward, this time through sand. But each grain is the size of snail-shells, latching onto his suit. Slipping through the fabric and suckling on his skin. His legs, arms, body. They absorb through his pores, into his muscles. He becomes fainter, and his eyes start to burn. Suzaku's vision is replaced by a golden fire, forcing him to move faster and faster until he's crawling to the top of the stairway.

He collapses on the top, but it's not enough. His body contorts further, dragging him closer and closer to the weary door where the statues all conform around. Ugly distortions of bodies that twist to form an arc. An old wooden door – dry and charred in black. In the colour of charred chalk much like the lost limbs of his fellow soldiers.

An old moan begs for his entrance. Something he desperately wants to avoid, but his spine splices into slugs: biting into each other to form a centipede. Suzaku's movements are lanky, controlled like a puppet. His limbs swerve towards the dark void seeping out of the dead gap.

Suzaku rocks forward, bracing himself for the thing that creeps. About to enter the stomach of the beast that'll consume him. His palm etches itself against the door, prepared to push it down. Burning his skin off with high intensity. Only increasing in fire, until his fingers are nothing but bones.

The door creaks — fast.

Forcing Suzaku's head back. He tumbles along with his mask, his poor brain bashing against his cranium. Something snatches his shoulder.

He's shaking. Breathing heavily. All in panic.

"Breathe."

It's only a voice, but Suzaku leans into it. Waiting for relief. And thankfully, it already came. Suzaku's touches his face; he's not wearing the Zero helmet.

Looking up, Suzaku sees the gold visor of Infinity, holding his own mask.

"Are you okay now, Suzaku?" Infinity's voice is a soft whisper, like a concerned father.

Suzaku lets Infinity take his arm, helping him through the door.

"This place is just too creepy."

He's in the temple: Infinity's current office.

Suzaku lets the prickly sensations emitted from the temple engulf him, holding his arms out like a fly. Torches light the room in brown rust, basking the adjacent military crates covering the walls from head to toe, leaving very little room to walk in. But every exposed, groove, tile, and painting points to the middle. To the crystal statue. Immaculately sharp, not deafened over time. The beauty of the Goddess remains internal.

Jaya, the warrior, sits tall, her four arms holding floating objects. Two for each hand, because there are always choices to be made. Such is the nature of war. The hands rise, Jaya points up to the ceiling. Light rays, spill out a circular hole above Suzaku. He can't help but agree with the statue; rather be in the sky – away from it all.

Infinity's desk is next to the statue, and Suzaku has to decide his approach. Because looking at beauty can also be punishing. He notices the further details of the figure. Because the blue isn't one solid colour, it's cut in strides. Showing the fibres in muscles, and the skeleton of the sternum. Like the women had no skin. And in any second that world of despair will suck Suzaku back in.

"Relax, don't let the power control you." Klaus's real voice, no longer covered by the Infinity mask. Suzaku gains the courage to tear his face away and grace himself with Klaus: a fellow commander. Old and reliable. Klause now holds the white mask to one side, clamping down at a nearby seat. One out of two tucked under a concrete desk. Klaus places Suzaku's mask next to the other chair, facing away from the statue.

"You'll feel better if you'd wear the mask less."

True, the mask is a massive trigger for Suzaku. However, there's no way he could reveal his true identity to the Rebellion; their morale is of the utmost importance. His identity only belongs to Klaus, the wise man, who picks a strange book from his desk. Their eye-line jolts from side to side, focusing on the pages.

It's a strange book, too big and grandiose. Yet Suzaku knows that the reader of the book is the true judge. And reading makes the mind smarter.

Klaus is wise. But Suzaku has to take his banter whenever he can, nowadays. Suzaku plops down on the chair, letting his senses numb.

"You're reading that strange book again?"

"It's imperative this book is studied, and if I remember correctly, you liked the recent implementation of one of the strategies."

Suzaku chuckles, can't argue with that. "What can I say? I like flares."

Klaus halfheartedly nods, then pulls his head forward. "Let's talk about your curse. Your eyes are still amber gold." Suzaku flinches.

Klaus pierces with an abrasive look. Suzaku stills, he shouldn't be surprised, his mind has been in agony ever since he started this Rebellion. Like fate hadn't punished him enough.

"What is there to talk about? Nothing can change."

"A Geass command that forces you to live. You cannot take an action that will endanger your life. But for whatever reason, you are here, in the middle of a warzone. That is remarkable."

"You're wrong. The curse takes hold of me only when my mind has determined that I will die. Nothing about it stops me from joining the fight."

No matter what Klaus will say, nothing can save Suzaku. When Lelouch used his mind-control Geass power on Suzaku, commanding him to live, Suzaku forever lost his agency. Most times, it seems the curse actively stops the universe from killing him, yet the rest of the time, it prevents Suzaku any relief through death.

Klaus flicks his index finger sporadically through his pages, before landing on a page. He turns it, showing a detailed image of a blond man on a horse. A name, Erwin Smith graces the page in flowery handwriting.

"This man was a hero. Worked tirelessly through every ordeal he ever faced. He suffered many great loses. But he used their deaths and pushed forward, to bring meaning to their lives. You can be that same person?"

Suzaku just laughs at Klaus's foolish assessment. But Klaus claps the book close, sliding it back to the corner of the desk. He leans in, his hands entwining together.

"How old do you think Erwin Smith was before he recognised his own merits?"

Age, why does that matter? This sounds like a lecture, so Suzaku waits in silence. He can't think of any answer, other than old. And that's just insensitive.

"You have it in your mind, and you are correct. It didn't dawn on Erwin Smith until the later years of his life. And do you know why that was?"

The warm light flickers against the temple walls in rage.

"Because to become a leader, experience is key. And despite what any AI specialist might say, experience always requires time. And time deals in both loses and wins. Suzaku, do you know why you let me lead alongside your campaign?"

"It was the most logical thing to do. You're so much better at leading. It's evident when we stand side by side. Your tactics are always more successful."

"Downplaying your leadership, yet you motivate the soldiers every time you make an appearance. Is that not already plenty? No, none of your actions is the problem. The only difference is that you are young."

Young, that's funny. That's the only thing Suzaku would critic Klaus on. He's too old: less to relate to the soldiers, less adept with the latest technologies. And that he didn't claim a General rank earlier.

Klaus chuckles, unprovoked.

"You're making that face again. Like? Damn. Why are old people so old fashioned?"

Suzaku looks down in embarrassment. Klaus clears his throat and continues.

"It takes so long for someone to become General because it takes time. But Zero is a hack, an image. And a lot of people can latch onto you, make you feel in control. But you're not. In any moment, something you've never experienced can strike. Maybe it's not as dangerous as an assassination, but it'll wound your self-worth. A lot of soldiers fail on this step, never attempting to achieve greatness. And that's okay. I've mentioned time and again that I'd let you be Supreme Commander of the campaign, but you stick to our partnership. Aiming smaller is fine; you can live a life you know will fit you. My point is, you'll find this all out in time. Tomorrow, a month, four years. You will find it."

The points ring true. Suzaku's heard Klaus mention them a few times before, but it never really sunk in. But maybe this arrangement is special because he feels the gushing on his cheeks deepen.

Suzaku fears time. He'll make no mistakes there. But Klaus flows with it, and that's something he needs to remind himself to respect.

"You saved that boy: Jade. Almost killing yourself. Fate doesn't own you. Only you do." Klaus bringing the fluke up again, he did witness it though.

And that word: Fate. Everyone always claims it doesn't exist. But how can they act so sure? For Suzaku has had fate carved into his very soul? To always live.

"They're important to you, those kids. Zero's mask doesn't hide anything from me. But if you really think you can't help them, then step down as Zero. And I'll take control of all units from here on out?"

Suzaku tries to look grateful, pulling himself to the back of his chair. But he gets Klaus's point. "No thanks, the Rebellion front is my responsibility."

"Good. So we can move on."

Klaus lifts a scroll from under the table. "I made the predictions and the plan." Unravelling, Suzaku sees the completed timeline. One crucial detail catches his eye, lighting a fire of annoyance.

Suzaku slams the table, blood boiling. "You intend to ambush the U.F.N conference at the end of the year? I still need to fight the Zilkhstan frontline at that time. You'll be defenceless."

Klaus is slow and steady. "The U.F.N have relocated the conference to an exposed region. We need to push forward now, while we have this chance. Your front is necessary, and we do still need it to push forward. But, it's time the world uncovered the U.F.N's crimes."

"I can't abandon my post." Suzaku slumps down onto the table.

Klaus embraces Suzaku's shoulder. "You won't need too. We've been endorsed. A new Frame model has been produced. We're giving it to our best soldiers – including the Rectors."

A worry fills Suzaku. They can't use kids for terrorist attacks. "The plan is still a peaceful demonstration, right? The U.F.N won't retaliate."

"Don't worry. The plan hasn't changed, just the date has moved up."

Klaus chuckles. "The Frames won't disappoint either."

Suzaku replants himself on his chair, accepting the argument. "Are we done then?"

"Almost, there's just one more matter. Marley's Emperor has found leaks for Japan's new experimental Frame interface: the Quantum Link. They're demanding a high performing pilot to be the guinea pig."

Suzaku's familiar sting returns. He's in danger.

Marley's Emperor? Klaus's primary political support. Although the man does not own him, Klaus still has to take orders from Marley's government. Maybe there is some leeway. "Deny his request."

"Not this time." Klaus holds a tense stare. The Emperor is becoming suspicious of me, and it is pertinent for the Rebellion that we have his trust."

The white coat is a sick colour in the torchlight. The helmet's visor, a rich gold. Klaus is usually amiable but is that only when he can afford to be? If so, the older man must be able to predict Suzaku's intentions.

Suzaku slumps to the bottom of his chair. Was he just a tool to Klaus all along? No, its only natural that people in their roles would be cunning. Klaus has been a General for many years, there is no way he hasn't had to make tough decisions. And that's what this is, a tough decision.

Circumstances change. Suzaku clasps his hands together in understanding. Klaus is holding something back, something that could jeopardise their position, and with that, the coalition between Zero. And Infinity.

Klaus has been so careful to point out Suzaku's affection for the kid pilots. He's planned this out already; it doesn't even matter whether Suzaku trusts Klaus. If Suzaku rejects, then the children are the next items on the table, and Suzaku can't let Marley mutilated them. Well played, he offers out his hand to Klaus. "I'll do it."

Klaus remains disgruntled. Hesitating, before taking Suzaku's hand.

But Klaus shouldn't worry about Suzaku's well-being. Even though Suzaku doesn't deserve the right to live, he doubts the universe will let him die for some risky experiment.

Suzaku looks up to the temple's window, but the clouds block out the once sunny sky. The anxious feelings return. He needs to be better and keep the curse under control. He can't let this fight be for nothing. Suzaku will make sure the world prevails, and that Lelouch's dream is fulfilled.

**Kallen joins the U.F.N, while Suzaku gives his all to the Rebellion. Time has switched their allegiances.**

**Thanks for reading, I will continue with Norwa Gateway next.**

**Feel free to ask questions in comments.**


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